Firestarters
by Abarero
Summary: It was a relic of the time, a written account by one of the members of the Shichinintai. Within the tattered pages, the lost stories of a man named Renkotsu and his companion Ginkotsu were told. [Renkotsu POV]
1. Chapter 1: Storyteller

**Author's Notes:** This was written as part of a bonus-claim at the livejournal community iy(underscore)no(underscore)kakera.

Words to know:

Aniki: Since the Shichinin-tai is an extremely close group of mercenaries, they refer to each other as "Aniki (Brother)" and to Bankotsu, their leader, as "Oo-aniki (Respected Elder Brother)." This use of familial terms shows their closeness and hierarchy but does notmake themrelated by blood. (they are all listed in the offical character book by Takahashi has having no relatives) 

Gesh or Gesh-shi: The sounds Ginkotsu makes when he's 'talking' sometimes. 

The story is in Renkotsu's POV. Enjoy! 

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Chapter 1 - Storyteller

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I look up as the rest of the group starts laughing at the conclusion to the story Oo-aniki was telling. Lately, it's become commonplace for Bankotsu and Jakotsu to recount their adventures prior to the formation of the Shichinin-tai. They're good for a laugh sometimes, other times- they even put me on the edge of my seat listening to the chilling way a boy so young can recount such gory events.

But this evening, it's something Bankotsu says after the story that catches my attention the most.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could write all this down. Like those monks and scholars do about important stuff. Then people, even after I'm dead, can get a good laugh out of it."

"Mou…but Aniki, you can't write, right?"

Bankotsu shook his head as he laughed, "Not unless you want half of the words mixed up. Not at all."

"Oo-aniki?" I speak up, the rest of the group turning to look at me.

"Hmm? What is it, Renkotsu?"

"Do you really think others would find the stories of our adventures that interesting?"

He shrugged, a wicked grin on his face as he gestured to Jakotsu. "Why not? Unless you think Jakotsu's too weird for them."

The taller man tackled Bankotsu onto the porch at that, his arms around his neck in a head-lock as he messed up the young leader's hair.

"Mou! You're weird too, Aniki!"

The group laughed again, and I excused myself from the porch to head into the yashiki. The idea, although it was clearly born of Bankotsu's child-like nature, was something I found very intriguing. He was quite right- monks often wrote out long scrolls of parchment on events they considered important. So why, why couldn't we write out our stories?

I began to rummage through the rooms, searching for any sort of writing utensils and paper. As I finished searching the second room to no avail, I noticed two figures standing in the doorway.

"Gesh-shi?" Ginkotsu questions.

"Something wrong, Renkotsu?" Bankotsu asks. They both seem to be worried due to my abrupt leaving of the group.

"It's just what you said, Oo-aniki. Someone should write out our story. And I thought that- if I could find the proper parchment and brush…"

His face lit up at that, "You mean you'll do it, Renkotsu?"

He was a weird one, Jakotsu was right about that. A young boy already one of the deadliest killers of our era and yet— still such a child deep down. And knowing that there was no way even a 'cold hearted killer' like myself could do anything that would cause the brimming excitement to vanish from Bankotsu's face, it meant that it was now up to me to recount this story.

"You should start at the beginning, though," Bankotsu continued, obviously giving the matter very serious regard.

"The beginning?"

He pointed to me with his smug smile he often gets when he knows he's right.

"Start with your story, then- when you met Ginkotsu- then us. If you're writing it, it should be your story."

"Gesh! Gesh-shi! He's right, Renkotsu."

I blink, taken back for the moment by the concept.

"My story?"

"Yours and Ginkotsu's. Then, we can have me and Jakotsu and the others all tell you their stories prior to joining the group. It'll be like one big story. We'll be like all the famous legends!"

He rushes over to give me a hearty pat on the back before practically running from the room.

"This will be great, Renkotsu. I'm gonna go tell Jakotsu and the others. I can't wait to hear your first story."

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That evening, I was given a room all to myself with plenty of space and all the brushes, ink and parchment the six other men could find in the remains of the yashiki. Since the former owners had been killed off by poison and not by my fires, luckily a lot of it remained intact- giving me a large pile of supplies for this crazy, child's whim of an idea that I was embarking on.

But no matter how I tried, I couldn't seem to get things started. I just stared at the blank parchment trying to put into words all the memories I had about my past.

I was concentrating so hard on this, that I didn't even notice the door sliding open and the loud footsteps approaching me.

"Renkotsu?"

Glancing up, I noticed Ginkotsu looking down at me.

"Ginkotsu, it's rather late. What are you doing up still?"

He sat down, his metal arm's joints rattling.

"Gesh. I should be saying that to you, Renkotsu."

I smiled at that; leave it to him to worry about me.

"I'm just trying to get this story started out…"

My words cut off as Ginkotsu awkwardly took the brush from my hands. He held it loosely in his right hand, and shakily he scrawled out some rough characters on the parchment before him.

"Ginkotsu?" I questioned, not sure what to make of the crude symbols.

"My original name, I think I wrote it right."

Eyes widening at that, I gently took the brush back from him. He was right- that was where I had to start. This story couldn't start with 'Renkotsu' or 'Ginkotsu.'

No, it had to start with Ginjirou and Renichi.

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	2. Chapter 2: Perils of Childhood

Author's Notes: The names Renichi and Ginjirou are just something I came up with to act as Renkotsu and Ginkotsu's names prior to their joining of the Shichinin-tai.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2- Perils of Childhood

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Every story has to begin somewhere, mine just happens to be a rather sour start. Ginkotsu seems to find it interesting though, completely caught up in the dull tale of my childhood.

And so, with his encouragement, I commit the story to the parchment; my brush writing out the beginnings for the both of us before we met.

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Renichi was an ordinary child, he just never knew his real parents. Left on the steps of the local temple, he was raised by the monks as their student. He would have no choice in his profession or his duties, since he was in debt to them for raising him.

At the age of six, they began to teach him the basics of reading and writing. All the while, they continually dodged the questions he would ask them.

"Where are my parents? Why did they leave me here?"

Every time, the answer was different. Sometimes, they'd say his parents died in their care so they raised him from a child. Other times, they say his lone mother came to them in her time of need and didn't survive childbirth. When the elder monk was feeling creative, Renichi was even treated to the elaborate lies about how his father was a brave samurai who was being chased by a rival and was headed towards the temple for sanctuary only to be killed alongside his wife on the way there.

Whatever the story was, Renichi didn't care. Even as a young child, he was wise enough to doubt his elder's words. He knew in his heart, his parents never thought twice about giving him away.

And with that knowledge, Renichi swore that all family structures were failures. That sooner or later, the ones with power would get rid of those without. That the wanted soon became the unwanted, and then you were left alone to die.

The elder monk said he was bitter, and assigned him many chores and prayers to ease his suffering. But the young man who would one day go on to become Renkotsu of the Shichinin-tai never once doubted that his family had abandoned him.

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Pausing in the tale, I look it over to make sure that it conveys my intention properly. If there's one decent thing I got out of those monks- it was my skills in writing. Once I'm satisfied with it, I turn to Ginkotsu- ready for his part of the story.

"So, that's how my childhood began."

"It's rather sad, Renkotsu."

Confused by his remark, I blink.

"How so?"

"To be a child- with all those sad thoughts…"

"They're not sad," I retort, pointing to my words, "I was bitter- my parents left me."

"But you got to live in a temple, with plenty of food, a warm futon to sleep in and people who did try and take care of you."

I fall silent for a moment before slowly raising my brush, ready to write down what I hear.

"I take it; you didn't have it so easy- Ginkotsu?"

"What I remember wasn't that nice."

"Tell me about it."

"Okay."

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Ginjirou was born to a poor family, who made their living working every day in the fields for the local daimyou. His father was sick, a strange condition that grew worse as the years went by and his mother often had to take less than favorable jobs to have enough money to pay for food.

While they both loved their son, it was not easy for them to do so. Bright red hair atop his head and a glassed-over right eye left him the target of many speculations. Some wondered if he was really a hanyou child, a side-effect of his mother sleeping around for some extra cash. Others merely thought it was a curse on the family, a sign that the father's disease was going to be fatal and possible spread to the whole village.

The more the rumors spread, the more often the family was forced to move. It was no surprise that by the age of four his father's illness and the stress of the constant moves finally took its toll. His mother then was left with no choice but to take even more jobs to support her young son.

This all changed when he was six years old and visited the nearest temple to pray for help. As he tripped over the top stair, he ran into another young boy- perhaps only a few years older than himself…

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I trail off on writing as the memory dawns on me. It was such a brief encounter that I never had given it a second thought. But now, I find myself remembering a poor, red-haired boy with a cloth pulled over his right eye.

"Ginkotsu- that was…you?"

He seems confused at first, but slowly it registers.

"You were- that boy?"

Nodding my head, I glance down at the paper once more. The words now seem to carry a higher level of importance. Now, not only to they recount our childhoods, but they've brought to light a part of our pasts that we never knew before.

Yawning, I roll up the scroll and begin to put the ink away.

"It looks like we have a lot to talk about, Ginkotsu. But right now- we'd best get some sleep."

"Gesh."

He starts to leave, but for some reason- I find myself stopping him.

"There's another futon in here. Just use it."

He looks at me, and I'm certain he instantly sees beyond my words.

_I may have hated my family. You may have lost yours. But you're my companion now- my friend. We're family now. You and I._

"Gesh! Okay, Renkotsu oo-aniki."

Settling down into the futons, I can hear the shifting of Ginkotsu's metal joints. Smiling wryly to myself, I wonder what happened between our chance encounter and Ginkotsu's state when I met him years later. But, as my eyes grow heavy- I remind myself that it can wait until tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Renkotsu," I hear Ginkotsu's voice murmur sleepily.

And, perhaps it's because I'm in a sentimental mood, I find myself replying.

"Goodnight, Ginkotsu."

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	3. Chapter 3: Stolen Generosity

Author's Notes: The word "Okaa-san" means mother.

**------------------------------**

**Chapter 3:** Stolen Generosity  
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It's not unusual for me to wake early like this, hours before the others. My body still seems to be accustomed to the years spent at the temple and no matter how much I try, sleeping in isn't something I often get to do.

This morning is a bit different, the sound of Ginkotsu's snores reverberating through the metal reminding me that I'll have to be extra quiet getting up and going out.

Some mornings, I'll pass the time checking over my supplies or polishing the cannons so they'll be in top condition. Sometimes, Mukotsu will be up at this hour- working on some brew that solidifies best in the morning air.

But as for today, I need someplace quiet to think. Luckily, there's a hotspring not too far by the mountain side that we'd discovered a few days back. I'm hoping that soaking in the warm water will help clear my mind so I can recall that day from the past.

The day we had a strange visitor to the temple- a poor woman and her red-haired son.  
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It was just like any other day at the temple where Renichi lived. As usual, he was up early in the morning for prayer and cleaning duty. While the other monks ate their morning meal, the young boy swept the front stairs leading up to the temple. He'd get to eat once he was done, something the elder monk said would teach him diligence.

As he neared the lower steps, he spotted something strange on the edge of the road. At first, it seemed to be nothing more than a large rock- but the bright dash of red by it piqued his curiosity. At the risk of being scolded by the elder, he stepped off the temple grounds and walked down the road towards the figure.

"Okaa-san! Okaa-san, hang in there! Okaa-san!"

A young boy's voice reached his ears as he came closer, finally discerning the strange figure as a boy and his mother.

"What happened?"

The words came out of his mouth before he even realized it, broom still clutched in his hands as he looked down at the two.

The red-haired boy looked up, his uncovered eye focusing on the young boy before him.

"We were trying to make it to the temple, but she just collapsed."

Renichi's eyes narrowed; somewhat perplexed by the fondness the boy seemed to hold for his mother.

"Is she ill?"

The boy's face grew somber, "She's not been eating right. Since she always gives me her share and isn't eating much herself..."

The young monk frowned. This wasn't what parents were like, he reminded himself. Parents were cruel, selfish beings who just exploited their power and threw unwanted children away. He'd convinced himself that long ago, but here was a woman who challenged that belief. She was literally dying slowly so her son would live.

"Can you help her up?" Renichi asked, his mind slowly formulating what it is he must do.

The boy nodded, slowly reaching down and cradling his fallen mother in his arms. As Renichi saw him beginning to sit her back against a nearby tree, he headed for the stairs.

"Wait here, I'll bring some food and water. She's too weak to climb the steps right now."

He started to climb the steps at an average pace, but his mind slowly began to demand that he move faster.

_"How can that woman put her son's life before her own?"_

Renichi's mind pondered as his pace grew quicker.

_"In times like these, when food for the poor is scarce does she really value her son's life that much?"_

As the answers came back to him, he broke into a run. Quickly, he rushed into the kitchen and snatched up the small bundle of food that had been left for him by the elder monk. Making sure no one was watching him, he grabbed up a flask.

_"I don't have time to go get fresh water from the well. I'll have to use the holy water for the temple..."_

Knowing he'd be severely punished if he was caught, he set up a diversion to keep any of the monks from noticing him. A box of fireworks used for ceremonies to dispel evil and pray for prosperity and a nearby candle providing Renichi with the perfect opportunity.

Tugging loose a string from the tassel of a drapery, he tied it to the candle's base and moved around the corner. He could hear the monks leaving morning prayer in the main temple and waited silently for just the right moment. As the elder monk entered the far side of the room, Renichi yanked the string- the candle toppling over and landing in the box of fireworks. As he'd hoped, the large explosion would be just the distraction he needed.

Racing to the main temple, he dunked the flask into the holy water and waited until it was filled to the brim. Then without looking back, he made his way out of the temple and down the stairs to where the young boy waited with his mother.

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	4. Chapter 4: Genuine Gratitude

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Chapter 4: Genuine Gratitude  
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"Renkotsu? Are you out here?"

The metal reverberations gave the voice away immediately and I sat up in the hot spring to look around for him.

"Ginkotsu?"

I could hear him approaching from my left and turned around to look up at him.

"What is it?"

I figured that it might be that we were to head out for a mission or that he needed some repairs to his metal joints so he could go about his day with ease. But instead, he just sat down on a large rock nearby.

"Gesh. I just wanted to talk, that's all."

My expression must have looked intimidating rather than confused, because he started to get back up.

"But if I'm bothering you..."

"No, it's all right," I replied, "Just let me get dressed so we can go back inside."

"Gesh, okay Renkotsu."

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We made our way back down to the yashiki we'd taken over recently to find that most of the others had stirred awake by this point. Mukotsu was seated out on the front porch stirring some new brew. A flock of birds fleeing a nearby patch of trees made it safe to guess that Kyoukotsu was out looking for breakfast. And Suikotsu, Bankotsu and Jakotsu sat involved in a lively conversation on the other end of the porch.

"Ah- Renkotsu, there you are," Bankotsu spoke up on noticing our approach, "I made sure the others left some breakfast for you guys."

He gestured inside and I nodded my acknowledgement.

"No assignments today?"

Bankotsu shook his head, "Nah. There's supposed to be a daimyou on the west side of the area getting in touch with us soon so don't get too comfortable here."

Nodding again at that, I walked past the others and pushed open the screens. I could hear Ginkotsu following me, and decided to make one quick detour before getting our breakfast.

"Gesh-shi?" He questioned, seeing me turn the opposite way.

"Go on. I'm just getting some parchment."

Ginkotsu seemed to understand what I was up to right away. The revelation of our chance meeting that was unknown to both of us up until this point was something we both still needed to discuss. I'd remembered what I could of the story and now hoped that Ginkotsu could provide me with the other half.

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Ginjirou was scared. He'd already lost his Father, and even though he knew his Mother was suffering without food- he didn't want her to die. Most of all, Ginjirou didn't want to be left alone. That was what he was scared of the most.

They'd been walking for days, seeking out anyone who would help them or shelter them. But those with big enough hearts to care often were just as poor as they were- leaving them with still very little money or food. Anyone who had the extra food and money was too cold hearted to help out the woman and her child. Some even spat in their faces- saying that the Mother's less-than-favorable working standards and her deformed child were to blame.

But Ginjirou hadn't given up hope; he was determined to all he could to help his Mother. So, when he'd spotted the temple off in the distance- he decided to go there and ask for help. Surely, he reasoned, the devout monks would take pity on their current situation.

"Hang in there, Okaa-san," He'd say to her as they walked; finally reaching the bottom steps of the temple.

But his Mother could not walk any further. Weakened by improper eating and drinking habits, she'd collapsed.

Luckily for them, a young monk was out sweeping the grounds at that very moment and caught sight of them below. He'd made his way over and listened to Ginjirou tell him what had happened. Although the monk seemed hesitant- it wasn't long before he was racing back up the stairs to get help.

At first, Ginjirou wasn't sure if he was coming back. It seemed like a long time had pasted and a loud explosion had sounded from the temple above. But, much to his surprise, the young monk came hurrying down the stairs with a bundle in his robes.

"You came back," He said, his visible eye lighting up with awe.

The young monk unwrapped the front of his robes- a flask of water, a two loaves of bread, and a bag of coins falling to the ground.

"Here. I hope it's enough."

The boy looked at all things laid before him then back to the monk. Then, in an effort to express his gratitude, Ginjirou hugged him.

"Thank you, it's more than enough," The rough voice murmured into the other boy's ear.

Pulling away and turning back to his Mother, the boy quickly gave her some water. The monk looked on, his eyes wide with shock. Little did Ginjirou know, Renichi had never received that kind of gratitude and was quite baffled due to the sudden hug from the other boy.

"Okaa-san!"

"Ginjirou," She said weakly.

"Hush okaa-san, just drink and eat. This kind monk helped us. He must have heard my prayers, okaa-san."

The woman smiled, nodding as she bit into the piece of bread.

Noticing the young monk beginning to drift away, Ginjirou called out to him as he picked up the second loaf of bread.

"You've got to eat too, right?"

Renichi turned, his eyes still holding that same perplexed look.

"Here- I'll share with you. This was your meal, wasn't it?"

Slowly, Renichi drifted back over to where the mother and son sat. And after a moment's hesitation, he sat down beside the other boy and took the chunk of bread he was offering.

"...Thanks," He said quietly.

Ginjirou just smiled, "It's the least I can do."

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"You've got to eat too, right?" Ginkotsu said again and I realized it was no longer the story I was writing but just a quaint twist of fate instead.

Looking up from the parchment to my companion, I quirked an eyebrow.

"Here," He said handing over a bowl of rice. I knew if his metal jaw would have allowed it, he would have been smiling.

I felt a smile tugging at my lips as well and opted not to withhold it. Taking the bowl from him, I bowed my head slightly in gratitude.

"Thanks," I said; the sentiment the same as that day years ago.

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End file.
